


suffocating on the fumes of our success

by mirthfully



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Autoerotic Asphyxiation, Charles Leclerc needs a hug, Choking, Everyone Needs A Hug, I like pain, Lewis Hamilton Also Needs a Hug, M/M, Mild Painplay, Oral Sex, Overuse of italics, Sad, Sad Charles, So does Charles, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, What Have I Done, i really abused those italics, like seriously, not actually intended for others to read but like here we are, pretty self-indulgent, so uh, this is a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:41:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirthfully/pseuds/mirthfully
Summary: Lewis was going to light the world on fire one day. His soul colliding with Charles' so spectacularly that they burn everything in their path. Neither one could really bring themselves to care.
Relationships: Lewis Hamilton/Charles Leclerc
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	suffocating on the fumes of our success

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhhh. I honestly have to say that I don't know what this is or where it came from. I just, really like this ship and I really like making characters/me hurt so here we are. This was mostly written for me, but I hope anyone who does read it enjoys. Anyways, here's my trash.
> 
> Also yes, I have indeed been working on this instead of the next chapter of The Neverending Crescendo of Our Heart. Oops?

When Lewis was born, it was with a flame burning soft in his heart. Even when he was little, Lewis knew he was destined for greatness--could see his own destiny written in the stars like a long-forgotten melody. 

_lewis would light the whole world on fire someday_

Lewis burned through life in a marvelous and spectacular way, almost as if he only knew how to exist while he was smoldering. With every move he made, he left behind a trail of smoke. The smoke would follow him while he tried desperately not to burn out too soon. Lewis saw the trail of fumes which lead to him and he knew his passion would be the death of him, burning him up and suffocating him on his success. 

He was young, and bright and burning and it didn’t take him long to leave the Earth behind--his body stayed but it was clear, his soul was with the stars now. It was Canada when he felt it, the shift in his existence; he was only twenty-two yet he now watched his own life from a distance. It was clear that Lewis was different from the others, clear that he was a glittering and gleaming star, so that’s what he became. 

When Charles joined the sport, Lewis was apprehensive--Charles was young and already they were deciding his fate in life, Lewis didn’t think anyone should have their life written for them like him. The first time the two met, properly met, Lewis found himself taken by surprise. The usual indifference and uncertainty people usually have for him was gone with Charles, something that managed to enchant Lewis and draw him in. Charles’ eyes held a fiery passion that Lewis had previously only ever seen in a mirror. It almost hurts Lewis, that Charles understands Lewis--it isn’t fair, Lewis thinks, that a _child_ should have to suffer like a sun. 

His fear and worry isn’t misplaced, as Lewis watches Charles grow and strengthen and melt beneath his own touch. It’s announced the Charles will go to Ferrari and Lewis knows that he should stay away, shouldn’t let Charles fall into greatness like him because it’s horrible and it’s consuming and Lewis can’t stop himself. He’s grown lonely, doesn’t know if he can handle the loneliness any longer; thinks he might explode if he has to spend another moment in the universe alone.

It’s with the furthest thing from a selfless heart that Lewis lets himself fall into orbit around Charles. An orbit which begins quiet and soft, with innocent congratulations and gradually lingering touches. Lewis studies Charles in this time, watches the way that Charles holds himself--something regal yet insecure graces Charles’ inconveniently beautiful presence. Charles’ eyes hold fire but they also hold too much knowledge for someone so young, pain laces his features and Lewis thinks that he’s so tragically beautiful.

Everytime their skin comes in contact, Lewis feels electric; the world turns to static and there’s nothing left but the point of contact between them. For a moment, it’s just them in their universe. Their special universe that’s lonely, and dark, and cold, and Lewis is so _tired_ of living like this. 

It almost becomes a routine, monotonous and recurrent like clockwork, and Lewis hates it. Hates that he’s gotten used to the minute touches and gentle interactions that aren’t ever enough, that will never be enough. When the new season starts Lewis watches Charles in his red Ferrari uniform and feels something akin to pride in his bones--pride because him and Charles are made of the same stuff, next to Lewis in the stars was Charles, the two written together in the sky without a choice.

Lewis can’t remember when he became content with his whirlwind life, wonders when he became complacent with his constant orbit which had shifted to accommodate Charles--because he would never admit his orbit had shifted _to_ Charles. He would burn before he let anyone know, his ashes the only things left of his being before he would consider betraying his secrets. 

It goes on and Lewis knows they can’t continue like this, knows that if they keep drifting closer they’ll collide and cause a fire so big it will consume them all. This knowledge doesn’t stop Lewis, doesn’t deter him in anyway; instead he finds himself accepting his orbit for what it is. He feels the pull of gravity, a pull which is invisible to everyone but them; and Lewis finds he doesn’t want to fight against it. 

The force of gravity’s become too strong to stop the first time Charles looks at Lewis like he finally _knows._ It’s the aftermath of the Belgian Grand Prix, and the glow that surrounds Charles is indication of the euphoria which clouds around him. Lewis can’t contain his giddiness when Charles looks through him, stares into Lewis’ soul in a way that no one has before and simply smiles. It isn’t a smile of anger or sharpness, Charles’ teeth aren’t dripping with poison but with sugar and Lewis realizes he’s never seen Charles smile like this before.

If Lewis were a better man, maybe he’d end this before it went too far. Nobody had ever accused Lewis of being a good person though, so he let himself get sucked in by Charles’ stunning attraction. He hugged Charles in congratulations and heat is pouring off of Charles in waves, mingling with Lewis’ ever-prominent warmth. To Lewis the combination is magnificent, the flickering of their burning hearts while they beat together. It feels like the two of them are in sync, melding together as if they have no other way to live. It should terrify Lewis, that he can’t seem to breathe without Charles anymore, but he can’t find himself to be afraid.

_they’re going to burn everything together, there’s no avoiding it now_

Once Charles has discovered the sun that lives inside him lives inside Lewis too, he seems ecstatic. If anybody notices the way Charles seems to find himself hovering around Lewis more often than he used to, nobody says a thing. Lewis can’t bring himself to mind the attention, glares off the strange looks and brushes off the curious ones while he lets Charles tuck himself into his side. 

The lingering touches grow less lingering and more constant, like now that Charles knows what Lewis feels like he never wants to let go--not that Lewis is complaining, he doesn’t think he can handle going back to the way things were before. The first time Charles comes to him outside of the track is a night that would have otherwise been unmemorable. There was rain outside, a blanket of cold consuming everything so Lewis let himself relax in his Monte Carlo home, Roscoe and Coco curled up on the other end of the couch. 

It was nearing midnight, and Lewis figured he should probably be sleeping soon, when there was a knock on the door. He could have wondered who was there, but something in his bones told him he already knew the answer. Sure enough, when he opened the door it was to a soaked and shivering Charles. Lewis didn’t say anything, they usually didn’t say a lot, instead he stepped aside and beckoned for Charles to come inside.

To say Lewis was concerned would be an understatement, Charles shaking violently as he looked around like he was lost. His eyes were big and sad and _empty_ and Lewis wasn’t sure how to respond to such a look. “Sorry I just barged in-I didn’t know where else to go.” Charles is shuffling around--he’s nervous, Lewis realizes and he has to stop himself from following his instincts and pulling Charles into a bone-crushing hug. 

“It’s really no bother, I was spending the night alone anyways.” Lewis begins to walk towards the hallway, looking over his shoulder to check that Charles is following him, “Now, let’s get you something warm to wear-I’ll let you shower too if you want-and I can make you something warm to drink.” Lewis doesn’t turn around again until they reach his room, offering Charles a soft, almost shy, smile before opening the door and stepping in. He doesn’t look around, instead going straight to his dresser and pulling out his most comfortable sweater and a pair of sweatpants. “There you are, do you want tea or hot-chocolate?”

Charles seems surprised that he’s been asked a question and he looks around almost anxiously before answering, “I don’t need any-” Lewis raises an eyebrow, daring Charles to finish his statement and Charles seems to think better of it as he swallows and takes a deep breath, “hot-chocolate please.” Lewis nods and directs Charles to the bathroom, showing him the controls of the shower before excusing himself to the kitchen. 

Lewis makes two cups of hot chocolate, doctoring them up and pouring in whiskey to his own--he leaves the rest on the table, he won’t keep that option away from Charles despite his desire to. The minutes seem to pass like hours and Lewis props himself against the kitchen counter while he sips his hot-cocoa. He loses himself in contemplation, wondering what brought Charles here tonight--knows it has something to do with the way they’re always being drawn towards each other. 

When Charles finally emerges from the bathroom, he’s walking like his body is heavy. Lewis is angry that the world would do this to someone so ethereal, and he pushes off the counter to grab Charles’ hot chocolate. He wastes no time pressing the warm drink into Charles’ hands, gesturing towards the whiskey which still sits on the counter in a silent offer. Charles only hesitates for a moment, almost like he’s afraid the bottle will disappear. There’s an almost feral fear held in Charles’ wide eyes, like he doesn’t know how to exist anymore.

Lewis wants to ask Charles why he’s here, wants to know what’s haunting him--he doesn’t ask, doesn’t push any further than he needs to to make sure Charles is okay. When Charles finishes his hot chocolate, Lewis cleans the mug and Charles watches; like he’s afraid to let Lewis leave his sight. The burning inside of Charles is so clearly a painful burn, as if more than just his heart is on fire. Lewis is almost afraid to break the silence they’ve found themselves drenched in, wants to wrap Charles up and never say another word. 

The thoughts are quickly pushed away, though Lewis does hold off on speaking for a little longer, leading Charles into the living room. When they sit down Lewis doesn’t stop touching him--grips his hand like an anchor--and if Charles doesn’t either, nobody has to know but them. If he were able to reach his conscious body a little bit more, Lewis would probably be able to see where he ended and Charles began; But Lewis was light-years away, and he and Charles had molded together like written.

Lewis tries to focus on the hand he holds with his own, manages to come back down to Earth for a little while. “Charles-” he doesn’t get anything more out before Charles is _whimpering_ beside him, bringing Lewis into a shock and suddenly Charles’ lips are pressed against his. It’s instinct, he’ll swear, that made Lewis kiss back; they should talk about this--they _need_ to talk about this first. 

They don’t talk, but the silence is broken--because are broken promises and whispers into cheeks really words at all? Charles pulls away and Lewis nearly _whines_ , catches himself before he really ends it all for them and focuses on the intense hue in Charles’ eyes. Lewis raises his eye-brow in a question, “Can, can we not talk about it just yet? Please just, kiss me.” Lewis can’t bring himself to deny Charles, doesn’t think he could ever deny Charles.

They continue to kiss and Lewis swears he’s on fire, every fiber of his being is burning and he can’t focus on anything but Charles’ lips against his own. The passion Charles had held previously isn’t gone, per say, but it’s dulled to something calmer. “Charles?” Lewis keeps his voice quiet as he pulls away from Charles--though only slightly. Charles seems to be preparing himself for something and Lewis lets him, letting his hand brush through Charles’ hair to form some kind of hopefully calming presence. 

It’s with one last deep breath that Charles steels himself, Lewis thinks that Charles looks a little like he’s preparing to charge into battle. “I want-” his voice falls out, his mouth moving but making no noise as he tries to calm himself more; Lewis grips his hand tighter in Charles’ hair, relishing in the way Charles closes his eyes slightly and leans into the touch. He’s so caught up in how stunningly _beautiful_ Charles is, that the whisper catches him off guard, “I want you to hurt me.” Lewis just manages to stop himself from choking, though that’s mostly because he can’t even bring himself to speak. 

When he does finally open his mouth to say something, _anything_ , Charles doesn’t let him--pressing forward once more and capturing Lewis’ lips with his own. “Lewis, _please_.” Charles is begging and well, Lewis has never known when it’s probably time to back down--even if he did, didn’t think he could stop this now. He’d been alone in the cosmos for entirely too long.

_lewis always knew he was going to hell_

Lewis doesn’t hesitate any longer, wonders if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, and presses his hand around Charles’ throat. Charles swallows underneath Lewis’ hand and it’s absolutely sinful and Lewis really shouldn’t be so into this, but it’s ridiculously addicting and Lewis thinks he’s drunk on the feeling. He makes eye contact with Charles when he squeezes, taking care to press only the right places, and it’s definitely the right choice. Charles’ gaze goes from haunted to relieved, and Lewis can’t even find it in him to be shocked by how _honest_ Charles looks right now. 

It’s impossible to resist the temptation, the feeling of Charles swallowing beneath Lewis’ hand incredibly intoxicating. Lewis doesn’t let go of Charles’ throat until Charles’ eyes begin glazing over, and when he finally releases the pressure Charles gasps in shock. Lewis would be worried that he’d hurt Charles too much if it weren’t for the way that Charles’ pupils had dilated and his eyes had widened. Lewis can’t stop himself from smiling at the way Charles looks beneath him, panting and exhausted and for once in his life miraculously relaxed. 

Lewis doesn’t want this to happen on the couch, and he doesn’t trust himself to move if they take it any further right now so he pulls Charles to his feet and leads him along to the bedroom. Charles seems content with this, letting his body go with the pull of Lewis’ hand and Lewis is entranced with the way Charles lays daintily on the bed. Looking like a delicacy, meant for Lewis. Lewis wastes no time in straddling himself over Charles, smiling with what he hopes is a promise. Lewis pulls at Charles’ shirt, throwing it to the floor once he’s gotten it untangled from Charles’ arms--following the motion with Charles’ pants as Lewis pushes himself down to kneel on the floor. 

When he looks back up at Charles, it’s an utterly sinful sight--Charles laid out in only his boxers with a dazed out look in his eyes. If Lewis were a better man he would stop this, end it before it went too far. But he wasn’t a better man, so instead he pulled Charles’ boxers off in a swift motion before promptly ignoring the way Charles bucked his hips up for some kind of contact or friction in favour of stripping of his own clothes.

When Lewis does finally return to Charles, he relishes in the way Charles drinks in his features like he wants nothing but Lewis. Lewis smiles, something he imagines one would describe as ‘sweetly’, before placing a hand back around Charles’ throat and squeezing once more. Charles thrashes once below Lewis in surprise, before letting his body go lax with the touch as his lungs struggle for air. Lewis doesn’t wait this time, instead he reaches down for Charles’ already hardening dick and wraps his other hand around it. The way Charles jerks at the contact has Lewis’ own dick jumping in response while he stares at Charles laying pliant beneath him. 

This time when he lets go of Charles’ throat he pulls back again, leaving Charles alone and gasping on the bed while he goes to his bedside dresser for some lube. When he returns Charles has closed his eyes, and Lewis finds his breath taken away once more at how utterly beautiful Charles is. Lewis climbs up behind Charles, laying Charles’ head on his lap and smiling once more when Charles opens his eyes to look up to him. Lewis strokes along Charles’ cheek and relishes the way Charles leans into the touch. “Hey sweetheart, you ready to be a good boy?” It’s almost shocking how quickly Charles nods, like he’s been desperate to be asked that question. 

Lewis lifts Charles and helps him onto the ground, until Lewis is sat on the bed with Charles’ head resting on his knee. It’s a heavenly sight, the way Charles gazes up at Lewis and Lewis can’t stop the way he winds his fingers through Charles’ hair, wrapping strands around his fingers. He pulls and it draws a gasping moan from Charles that Lewis can’t help but drink up. While Charles is gaping, Lewis pulls Charles’ head towards him and lets his dick press between Charles’ lips. 

It’s ridiculously hot, how Charles responds with an unrivaled enthusiasm and mouths at Lewis’ tip with fervor. Charles takes Lewis all in one suck, and the only warning Lewis has is the way Charles’ head shifts underneath Lewis’ hand briefly. It takes all of Lewis’ will-power not to let out a guttural groan, withholding such a noise so as not to give Charles too much satisfaction--after all Lewis’ legs were already weak and shaking and he’s immensely grateful that he’s sitting or else he’s sure he would’ve collapsed by now.

It’s a sin, the way Charles’ mouth looks wrapped around Lewis’ cock, lips slick while spit and precum dribbles down his face. Charles doesn’t let that stop him, continuing to suck with all the desperation in the world. It takes a moment for Lewis to gather himself and he pushes Charles’ head against him in a persuasion for Charles to take him deeper. Charles responds to the challenge with a moan and Lewis feels his body jerk under the attention. Somehow Lewis manages to pull Charles off before he’s reached an edge and he finds himself hauling Charles up onto the bed again. Charles shivers under Lewis’ hand and Lewis feels his body burning. With a small amount of difficulty, Lewis opens the bottle of lube with one hand while maintaining a grip on Charles with the other. 

Charles seems happy with his lack of control as Lewis coats his hand with lube and pushes a finger into Charles' hole. Charles mewls, jerking his hips and Lewis lowers his left hand from Charles' hair to his neck, squeezing lightly as a warning before tightening his grip. Charles goes pliant beneath Lewis and he works a second finger in and twists until Charles is shaking under his touch. 

Lewis loosens his grip around Charles' neck as he pulls his hand out, too far gone to prepare Charles any further. Using the lube still covering his hand, Lewis pumps his dock several times, quickly lifting Charles so he's positioned on top of Lewis. Hands gripping Charles' hips, Lewis pulls Charles down with enough force to make Charles cry out and twist in Lewis' grip.

Lewis gives Charles a moment yo adjust, moving his hands back up to Charles' neck. They stay like that, Lewis bouncing Charles with his grip while Charles gasps for air he can't quite get. Charles is suddenly clenching around Lewis and be cums hard, covering their chests. Lewis is quick to follow, his hands going lax as he pants through his orgasm.

Once he's gathered himself, Lewis shifts them so they're lying on the bed and he grabs an extra blanket to wipe them off with. Lewis then tosses the blanket to the floor and lets Charles tuck himself into his chest. 

_he can't help but think, when did he become so comfortable like this?_

The weeks pass and Charles keeps ending up in Lewis' bed, they don't talk about it. They don't talk about it in the way they don't talk about the ghosts haunting Charles' eyes, the pain that leaks out in desperation. Lewis understands and wishes he could ease Charles' burden, knows he can't. 

Lewis is Champion. Again and again and again and now he's left wondering how much more of this he can take. He's aflame, burning hotter than ever before and he's certain that at some point he's got to explode. Charles is disappointed, it seeps off him in the way he preens as Lewis bruises him and as Lewis pets him all the same. Lewis doesn't quite know what to do so he listens when Charles asks and lets himself be guided by luck.

Days continue passing, they always do. Lewis is tired, convinced the end must be near; anything to soothe his weary soul. Charles holds the same desire in his bones, Lewis feels the longing for an end every time his fingers find their way around Charles' neck. 

_it's cruel to them both that Lewis can't say no._

Someday, this is going to kill them. They'll boil and burn until there's nothing left, all while they dance on the Earth and light her on fire. Until then, Lewis is content to continue this neverending masquerade.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading my trash! I hope you liked it and as always, follow me on tumblr @mirthfullyme and @whereisthemilkman


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